


Don't Forget to Remember Me

by CamelotQueen



Series: The Memory of You is Killing Me [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Memory Loss, slice of life but life is kind of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:06:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamelotQueen/pseuds/CamelotQueen
Summary: Keith recognizes him immediately. Alarm bells go off in his head. This person is important, he thinks. He wishes he could remember. “Keith!” he exclaims, “Look who’s finally awake. How are you feeling today?”Keith falters. His mind is working a mile a minute trying to recall this person’s name, what he is to him. “Um… who are you?” he asks dumbly. He immediately regrets it. _______Keith suffers from dissociative amnesia.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfic in years. In y e a r s. But I read a short horror story about dissociative amnesia and was struck by inspiration. This isn't horror, it's just sad. 
> 
> Other than the short story and a brief google search, I don't really have much experience with dissociative amnesia so it might not be completely accurate. But it's basically forgetting things over and over again (a lil more complex than that but whatever just read for yourself).

Keith wakes to the sound of birds chirping outside his window. He squints against the light pouring in through the curtains and sits up, rubbing his eyes. Something is wrong.

He looks around the room. There is the bed which he’s sitting on, with fluffy white sheets that look slightly greyed from use, a dresser with various products on top of it in disarray and a mirror attached to it, pictures taped to the edges. An open door leads to an adjoined bathroom. There’s a bedside table, with a lamp and an old mug that has the remnants of old coffee in it. There is also an alarm clock that reads 9:57 AM. 

Keith peers around the room curiously, surveying his surroundings over and over again. Everything looks vaguely familiar, although he cannot place his finger on why. This is his house, he guesses. That assumption seems right to him, but why can’t he remember?

Now that he thinks of it, he can’t really remember anything. He scrunches his eyes, deep in thought. Well, he knows his name, and he knows with a distant sense of certainty that this is his house. He has trouble conjuring up much else.

He slowly gets up and moves to the dresser. He looks at himself in the mirror. He does not look any different than he remembers, perhaps a little worse for the wear. His skin seems especially pale, and he looks like he lost some weight. He does not know from what point in time he is referencing, but he feels like he used to have more bulk.

He peers at the pictures attached to the mirror, hoping they will provide him with some clues. All of the people in them look so familiar, but he can’t figure out why. He himself features in most of them, as well as another man in particular that catches his attention. He’s tall and very lean, with tan skin, brunette hair and a mischievous smile. Keith wracks his brain for answers, but finds none.

He does, however, find some answers in a specific photo. Or rather, a group of photos taken at a photobooth. In them, it’s just him with the familiar man. It is a series of four pictures, most of them feature the other man making a funny face and Keith holding himself back from laughing or rolling his eyes. In the last one, Keith’s arms are wrapped around his neck and they are kissing.

Keith’s heart is thrumming in his ears. He feels his face heating up. So _that’s_ why he looks familiar. But why can’t Keith remember his name?

He is suddenly made aware of a presence downstairs. He hears the sound of footsteps and the clinking of ceramic against metal. His head snaps to the door leading to the hallway. He knows he should probably leave the room, but the fear of the unknown unnerves him. He forces himself to breathe slowly and walks towards the door.

He makes his way slowly down the hall. There are three other doors, all closed, and a carpet on the floor silencing the sound of his footsteps. The stairs are on the other side of the hall. He reaches them and places his palm on the wooden bannister. The wood is smooth and shiny. He slides his hand down it as he walks down the stairs. 

They lead to what appears to be the front door. Letters are on the ground from where they were entered through the mail slot. An open archway leads to another room where he sees a baby grand piano. On the other side of the stairs is an open door leading to what looks like a dining room. There is a china cabinet sitting against the wall, a table with six chairs in the middle of the room, and a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

It all seems so _domestic_. He doesn’t recall ever having a place that he could really call home. Somehow he feels out of place here. He has a vague recollection of nomadic tendencies, of going where no human has gone before. Of an unending expanse of desert, of stars, of unknown solar systems.

He turns towards where the faint sound of life is coming from. He finds it in the kitchen, which consists of dark stone counters lining two walls and an island in the middle. On one side sits a metallic fridge and a stove, and on the other sits high reaching wooden cabinets. On the far side of the kitchen is a small table with two chairs tucked into a space surrounded by windows.

And standing in the middle of the kitchen, back facing Keith, arms deep in a sudsy sink, is the man from the photos. The one kissing Keith.

Keith recognizes him immediately. Even if he just sees the back of his head, alarm bells go off in his head. _This person is important,_ he thinks. He wishes he could remember.

The man must sense Keith’s gaze, because he turns around to look at him. Keith thought he was striking in the photos, but god, he wasn’t prepared for this. His face lights up in a smile the second his eyes meet Keith’s, and he feels vulnerable under his gaze.

“Keith!” he exclaims, taking his arms out of the sink and grabbing a towel to dry them off. “Look who’s finally awake. How are you feeling today?”

Keith falters. He feels so out of his element. His mind is working a mile a minute trying to recall this person’s name, what he is to him. They are living together, right? Are they roommates? Are they dating? The pictures in the bedroom seem to suggest the latter, but the question still remains.

“Um… who are you?” Keith asks dumbly. He immediately regrets it.

The other guy flinches imperceptibly. His smile becomes strained, but it is obvious that he is working hard to keep it there. He throws the towel back on the counter and walks towards the island, grabbing an open notebook.

“I’m Lance, remember? Your husband.”

Keith feels his stomach drop. _Husband?_ This new information circles around his mind. That’s right, he has a husband. Lance is his husband.

“Here,” Lance offers him the notebook, resting his other hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith takes it hesitantly and looks at Lance briefly before turning his eyes towards the page. It has writing on it. His handwriting. He knows this in the same vague way that he knows his name is Keith and this is his house.

It’s a list. The list contains general information about Keith’s life and things he wanted to remember. Dates, people, important events. He skims over it and it slowly comes back. Not all of it, but he’s starting to remember. He was a _paladin_ . He fought _aliens_ . He was gone for _years_. He and Lance got married. He was diagnosed with dissociative amnesia. He looks back up when he’s done reading. Lance is patiently watching him. 

He remembers meeting Lance now. And he remembers getting closer with him while they were in space. He remembers the nervousness, and wondering if he was reading too much into Lance’s words, his smiles, his casual touches. He remembers kissing him for the first time. It was on a battlefield. He thought he was going to die. Lance was pissed. He couldn’t believe Keith waited until he was on his deathbed before finally admitting his feelings.

But then he was okay. And they talked, and Lance kissed him again. He remembers feeling happier than he’s ever felt in that moment. And then Lance just kept exceeding his expectations, over and over again. Making him happier and happier than he thought was even possible.

“Lance,” he breathes. Lance smiles wearily at him.

“The one and only.”

Keith thinks back to one of the important dates he wrote down.

“What day is it?”

“September 27th.”

Keith groans. “I missed our anniversary.”

Lance shrugs and takes the notebook out of his hands, placing it on the counter and wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist, bringing him closer.

“Nah, you actually didn’t. You’re having a bad day today but you still remember things sometimes. You remembered our anniversary this year, you took me to a fancy restaurant and bought me flowers. It was so cheesy.”

Keith flushes. He does vaguely remember that now.

“Well, if I remember correctly, you serenaded me. That’s way more cheesy.”

“You remember! I’m not even mad that you just made fun of me, I’m just happy you remember. And you loved it so don’t even.”

Keith smiles. He can’t believe he forgot this.

“Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro are coming tonight for dinner. I was just cleaning up a little and I was going to go grocery shopping in a bit. You can come with me if you want.”

Keith considers his options. It’s either go with Lance or wander around the house with nothing to do.

“Sure, what are we getting?”

“Well, I was thinking of trying out a new recipe I found on Pinterest.”

“Pinterest? Oh my god Lance, you have a Pinterest?” Keith covers his face with his hand.

“Shut up, Mullet, you’re just jealous that I have better taste than you.”

“Isn’t that site for teenage girls and middle-aged moms?”

“Stop trying to make me conform to society, Keith! You’re the one that’s stuck in the 80s. You can’t talk.”

Keith huffs but concedes. Lance smiles and pecks him on the cheek before letting him go. He continues to prattle on, reminding Keith about various things and cleaning up the kitchen. Keith stares at him as he busies himself, silently appreciating how fast he was able to recover from Keith not remembering him. He wonders how long he’s had to deal with this. Keith might remember who he is now, but there are still a lot of blanks. 

Eventually, they get ready to head to the supermarket. Keith changes out of his pajamas and Lance makes sure he puts on a sweatshirt before they leave the house. ( _It’s starting to get cold out, Keith!_ )

They hop in the car, which is a beat up old pickup truck which Lance explains that Keith worked on himself. Lance is behind the wheel and Keith sits in the passenger seat.

An awkward silence settles between them. At least, to Keith it feels awkward. Lance either has a really good poker face or he’s genuinely fully engrossed in keeping his eyes on the road. Keith guesses it’s the first though, especially when Lance punches the button to turn on the radio and staticy pop music fills the void of silence between them.

“So... “ Keith starts, not really knowing where he’s going with this. “Sorry about… forgetting everything. Again.”

Lance waves his hand, dismissing him. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I know I said earlier that today was a ‘bad day’ but it really wasn’t. You remembered pretty quickly. There are definitely much worse days.”

That doesn’t really make Keith feel better. Lance must notice the way he shrinks back in his seat a little, because he adds “there are really good days too! Days where you wake up with no missing memories. Like our anniversary this year!”

“What are most days like?” Keith can’t help himself but ask.

Lance’s eyes are strained, but his smile remains plastered on his face. “Most days are like this, I would say. Not too bad.”

Keith doesn’t want to press further. He’s afraid he doesn’t want to know the answer to his next question, but he asks anyways.

“How long has it been like this?”

“Around three years, give or take,” Lance answers easily.

Keith gets the feeling there’s a lot unspoken in Lance’s answers. _Three years._ Three years of having to remind his husband who he is on a frequent basis.

Keith’s heart fills with remorse. He doesn’t know what to say. He knows whatever he says today won’t make up for what he will still do in the future. Hell, he’s probably had this conversation with Lance hundreds of times. He wonders if Lance tires of it.

They reach the grocery store. Keith pushes the cart and Lance checks the list on his phone, walking around the supermarket slowly, squinting his eyes up at the signs over each aisle, trying to find what he’s looking for. It’s so ordinary, but so endearing to watch. The benefit of forgetting everything, Keith figures, is that he never gets the chance to get used to the simple things like this. 

Lance fills the cart with more than enough for dinner with five people and they head to the cash register. The cashier looks bored, and she mindlessly asks them how they are doing before scanning the items, not even waiting for an answer. Lance picks up a gossip magazine and peruses it idly. He stops at a page featuring Taylor Swift and laughs.

“See!? What did I tell you before?” he shoves the magazine spread in Keith’s face. “I knew this would happen. The gossip magazines just can’t leave her alone for a second.”

Keith stares at the article blankly. It’s something about speculation over her new potential boyfriend. He doesn’t understand exactly how he’s supposed to react, so his eyes dart across the page, looking for context clues. After a few moments of awkwardness, Lance pulls the magazine back.

“Oh right, nevermind,” Lance mumbles, putting the magazine back on the shelf.

“What?” Keith asks, feeling like he missed something.

“Nothing, it was a conversation we had a while ago, but it was stupid.”

Keith feels like he should say something, but when he opens his mouth the cashier interrupts.

“That will be $80.73 please.”

Lance quickly takes out his wallet and shuffles to face the cashier, clearly ready for the conversation to be over. Keith feels his face burn with shame and takes back his earlier sentiment that maybe this memory loss has a bright side.

They get back to the car and drive home in relative silence. Lance relies on the pop music again to ease the tension. He starts singing along to a song Keith isn’t familiar with, but he’s pretty sure this isn’t the first time he’s heard it, and he finds himself laughing at Lance’s terrible falsetto.

Keith’s laugh only serves to egg Lance on, and he gets more into the music, trying to get more of a reaction out of him. Keith sees what he’s doing and plays along anyways, wanting to make up for the incident at the grocery store. By the time they’re back at the house, they’re goofy-smiling and the tension is gone.

The rest of the day goes by with minimal bumps. Lance fills him in about some fancy event they're going to next week to honor the paladins of Voltron. He guesses being defenders of the universe have made them fairly respected. They got medals of honor and a bunch of sweet benefits from the government. The events are usually boring, Lance informs him, and everyone just tries to kiss your ass and you have to pretend to be interested in politics. But the food is good and there's usually a speech or two about how amazing you are, so he can't complain overall.

Lance lets Keith help him cook the dinner, which is a caprese ravioli with roasted tomato pesto sauce, a sriracha lime chicken salad, and a starter of stuffed mushrooms ( _Soooo Pinterest-y, Lance_ ). By the time they’re done, Keith is sure it’s way too much for five people ( _That’s the point, Keith! Leftovers, duh!_ ) and it’s almost time for their guests to arrive. Lance asks Keith to set the table in the dining room while he puts the finishing touches on the food.

The first to arrive is Shiro, then Pidge a few minutes later, and then finally Hunk with a homemade pie for dessert. They all greet Lance enthusiastically ( _it’s been awhile since we’ve seen them last_ , Lance explains) and although they hug Keith and exclaim that they missed him, there’s a certain tightness around their smiles when they look at him that sets him off edge. ( _“Does he…?” he hears Pidge pull Lance aside to ask quietly. “Yeah. He remembers you guys,” Lance confirms. Keith pretends he doesn’t hear._ ) 

Lance collects their jackets and they migrate to the dining room, where they compliment Lance’s cooking and he absolutely beams. They engage in easy conversation about what they’ve been up to since they’ve seen each other last.

Keith feels a little out of place. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen them at all, except for vague memories of being really close with them once. When he looks around, they feel familiar, but he doesn’t know what to say. It upsets him more than he thought it would.

After a while, Pidge notices how withdrawn he is and invites him into the conversation. It gets easier from there, although he still feels like the others are almost tiptoeing around him. He can’t decide if they feel it too or if it’s all in his head.

The conversation eases into the late hours of the night. Some of it goes right over Keith’s head, other times it sparks recognition in his brain. He appreciates that they make more of an effort to involve him in the conversation after a while, and they explain events that he’s forgotten.

It’s wild, Keith thinks, hearing stories about things he’s done and not remembering them. He was a hero. He’s saved countless lives and he’s fought against the most fearsome beings in the universe. He’s done so much, and he can’t remember any of it.

Finally, their guests start petering out. It’s really late and they’re all feeling tired. They thank Lance and Keith for having them over, give them more hugs, and tell them that they’ll have to do this again soon. Lance agrees, and they shuffle out the door. Lance closes it behind them.

The house is silent for the first time in hours, and the sudden shift makes Keith uncomfortable.

“That went really well,” Lance says brightly, “ _You_ did really well. That was a lot thrown at you at once. When you woke up this morning and I could tell it was one of those days for you, I wasn’t sure if I should call it off. But you hung in there, so good job.”

Keith scrunches his eyebrows. “When was the last time we saw them?”

Lance hums. “A couple months ago, I think? It’s been a while. The last time they came over you freaked out so we thought we would take a break for a while. But we wanted to catch up before the event next week so we wouldn’t have to worry about ignoring important foreign ambassadors in favor of seeing each other or anything. 

Keith frowned. A couple months? Guilt gnawed at his insides. 

“I’m… sorry,” he slumped. “I’m sorry for ruining it last time. I’m glad you didn’t cancel today because of me. It sounds like all I ever do is make everyone worry about me. I’m all messed up. I don’t even know how messed up I am because I can’t remember.”

“Hey!” Lance grabs Keith’s face and forces him to look up. His facial expression looks somewhere between indignant and concerned. “You are not a burden, so don’t ever think that. I love you so much, Keith. We’re all messed up! You don’t think I have problems too? We _all_ have problems. You don’t do what we had to do and walk away unscathed.”

Keith snorted and pulled his face away from Lance’s hands. “But you don’t forget things.”

“No, but I do have nightmares. And I can’t handle loud noises. You don’t even remember how many thunderstorms you’ve had to hold me through. And Shiro? He has debilitating flashbacks and psychosomatic pain in his robot arm. Hunk has hallucinations sometimes, and Pidge is on anti-depressants, sleeping pills, and all sorts of other meds. We’re all messed up, babe.”

Keith looks back up at Lance’s face. He’s smiling sweetly, and Keith can’t help but give a small smile back.

“Well… either way. You don’t deserve this. You deserve a husband that remembers your anniversary, that remembers _you_ … every day. I’m sorry you have to deal with this. Thank you for putting up with me.”

Lance tsks and opens his arms, inviting Keith in. He presses his face against Lance’s chest and sighs as he’s enveloped in his arms. His own hands grip the back of Lance’s shirt desperately.

“You don’t have to apologize, babe. I don’t regret any of this at all. I’ve been married to a smoking hot dude for six years now.”

“Can you be serious at all?” Keith rolls his eyes even though Lance can’t see.

“What? I am serious! You’re hot! And strong, and kind, and talented, and compassionate, and you always put others first. Sounds to me like I hit the jackpot.”

Keith squeezes his eyes and feels his face heat up at the compliments. Without thinking, he mutters, “I love you.”

He feels Lance tense, and worries that he said something wrong until he feels Lance’s arms tighten around him and he whispers, “I love you too. So much.”

They stay like that for a few more minutes in silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, standing in the kitchen in the middle of the night, until Lance slowly pulls away.

“We should go to bed,” he says softly, smiling at Keith with so much tenderness he thinks his heart might burst.

He lets Lance take his hand and they walk upstairs together. They both get ready for bed in comfortable silence. Lance shuts off the lights and pulls down the covers. Keith crawls underneath and immediately snuggles up to Lance, who kisses his forehead.

Keith tilts his head up and kisses him back, right on the lips. It’s dark, but he can see Lance blink in surprise before smiling and kissing him back with enthusiasm.

A comfortable heat settles in Keith’s chest and he continues kissing Lance, brushing his hands over his cheeks, neck, down his arms, over his bare chest…

Lance dips down to kiss Keith’s neck and he sighs contently. He thinks about the events of today, how he woke up in this same bed this morning with no recollection of Lance, of his friends, or even much about himself. How could he forget this?

How could he ever forget this?

“I’ll remember this,” he whispers. “I won’t forget tomorrow. I’ll remember today forever. I want to remember.”

Lance hums and continues kissing.

“I’ll remember you too,” Keith continues. “I’ll remember who you are tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” Lance whispers, breathing hot puffs of air onto his skin as he speaks. “Okay.”

Keith wants Lance to agree with him. He wants him to tell him that he will definitely remember this. That he knows he will wake up tomorrow with complete clarity. But he is too afraid to ask, so he stops talking. Instead, he stares up at the ceiling as Lance drops his head back on the pillow next to him, closing his eyes. Lance pulls him close again and Keith complies, wrapping his arms around him. He is suddenly afraid to go to sleep, not knowing what is going to happen tomorrow. He just wants to stay up and stare at Lance as he sleeps and memorize everything about him. Remember what he looks like. Commit it so deeply to memory that he will never forget again.

But eventually, sleep comes for him and he can’t fight it anymore. His eyes flutter shut and he falls asleep to the mantra of _remember, remember, remember…_

 

* * *

 

The next day, Lance wakes up slowly and sits up, feeling more well-rested than he has in a while. He looks over and sees Keith sleeping soundly next to him, limbs askew and his mouth slightly open. He breathes out a quiet laugh at how cute he manages to look with bedhead.

He stretches but remains in bed, enjoying the quietness of the morning. His gaze wanders out the window and he watches a bird sing on the tree outside until he hears movement behind him.

He turns to see Keith rolling over, blinking his eyes into focus. Lance waits as Keith accustoms himself to his surroundings and finally locks in on Lance.

Confusion settles over his features.

“Um… where am I?”  
  
Lance tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest as he forces himself to smile cheerfully. It never gets easier.

**Author's Note:**

> *jazz hands*
> 
> Welp, was this worth coming out of fanfic retirement for? Probably not.


End file.
